


im sorry i left your funeral. if it's any consolation, i love you

by Rosalee_Kenneth (orphan_account)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Character Death, Funerals, Letters, M/M, im really sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:21:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22297738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Rosalee_Kenneth
Summary: "And I guess that’s where the truth comes in—the punchline to the joke I’ve been holding in for too many years."ORthe fic where Richie leaves a letter and we all wish we didn't read it
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	im sorry i left your funeral. if it's any consolation, i love you

Hey, guys.

I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly—I really wished I could’ve stayed longer. I thought I was going to make it through the whole memorial, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t stare at this headstone with Eddie’s name on it without breaking down a little inside, you know. Normally in sad situations I have Eddie there with me to ground me and make feel a little less shitty inside. I know you were trying to be there for me, and I really appreciate it guys, I do, but none of you are Eddie. I’m sorry for sounding like a dick, but none of you could ever be Eds. None of you could ever make me feel the way I felt about him. And I guess that’s where the truth comes in—the punchline to the joke I’ve been holding in for too many years. Stanley knew, but then again, what did that man not know? You know how he found out? Well, it started with the kissing bridge, you know the one. I carved a little something on that bridge—it was discreet enough to be vague. Not to Stan the Man, I suppose. He saw what I carved and went to my house with his knowing face that I already knew meant I was in trouble. He always knew how to connect the dots, solve the puzzle, point out the context clues. Fuck, I loved him. He didn’t treat me any differently after he found out, but he did try and convince me to tell you all, though. I wanted to, trust me, but we lived in a town where anything could happen and sometimes the unknown is better than the truth. Shit, I’m stalling. What’s new, I guess? So yeah, the big reveal—I love guys. I love guys in all the ways I’m supposed to love girls. I’m gay. Who saw it coming? Shit, I know this is a letter, but it feels really good to tell you guys that. I understand if you’re mad at me for not telling you sooner, but I thought leaving Derry would force my gayness out of me in some way. Spoiler alert: I didn’t fucking work. It especially didn’t work when I came back and saw Eddie. Poor, sweet, hypochondriac Eddie. My Eds. He was there and it felt like we were kids again—it felt like 27 years hadn’t gone by. But they did, and he was married, and I was so hopelessly in love with him. Sometimes things never change, one-minute you’re a kid who’s madly in your best friend and the next minute you’re an adult who’s madly in love with your best friend. I think one of my biggest regrets is not telling Eddie I’m gay. I don’t care about him ever knowing I loved him, I just wanted him to know my truth. I really thought I was going to tell him in the sewers, the minute before he died. He was so close to me, and I could feel the world collapsing around me as I just focused on him. In that moment, I realized that every joke I’ve ever told was for Eddie to laugh at. He rarely ever did laugh, but when he did…I felt whole. What I would give to just rewind time and hold onto him for as long as I could and tell him that he was my everything. Maybe, in a perfect world, he would’ve said it back. I’d like to think he would have said it back.

So, there you guys, the whole shebang. Turns out I’m a hopeless romantic who’s now just hopeless. I’m in New York, if you ever want to find me. Do me a favor though, wait for a bit. I don’t want you all to rush over and make sure I’m ok because I’m not and I won’t be for a while. I process my shit better when I’m alone, you guys know that. It’s not the healthiest way to cope, but its my way to cope. I think I’ll take a break from comedy for a while, I’m not really in the jokey mood that much anymore. Maybe when I make my comeback, I’ll be writing my own material. A guy can dream, right? Also, one last thing—if you ever do want to know what I carved into the kissing bridge, go there and look for a R+E. I’ll leave the interpretation up to debate.

Love, Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier

P.S. Can you make sure the flowers I bought get put on Eddie’s headstone? They’re petunias, his favorite.

**Author's Note:**

> cry now, cry later, and cry forever


End file.
